


What would you prefer? Peace or freedom?

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Comfort/Angst, Future Destiel, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what I'm doing, Lucifer - Freeform, M/M, Michael - Freeform, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sastiel - Freeform, Sex, Soulless Sam, The Cage, Tired Castiel, spn season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel pulled Sam out of hell, he walked away from the Winchester brothers. Dean had found his happy ending, and Sam was safe from Lucifer. Until, that is, Raphael intends to reopen the cage.<br/>But Castiel can't stay away.<br/>He needs his connection to the Winchester's. He needs their strength. And with Dean living his life, Castiel turns to Sam for the help he needs.<br/>But Sam is not quite...Sam, and things take an unexpected turn for the rebellious angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/gifts).



> I'm a hardcore Destiel shipper, but there is something about Misha and Jared's interactions at JIBCON 2016 that has my interest piqued.  
> So I wrote this.  
> I'm sorry.

“What would you rather have, Dean? Peace...or freedom.” The shouting in his head was getting louder. He couldn’t stay. Dean had another path now. Another ending. Castiel had to find his.

Dean clenched his jaw. “You really suck at goodbyes, y’know?”

 

Castiel heard the echo of Dean’s voice in the odd emptiness of his vessel. Jimmy was gone. He closed his eyes, and pressed his hand to the place where Jimmy’s heart used to beat. His wings arched over the sky, beating a cadence of silences against the night sounds over Lawrence, Kansas. He touched down in Stull Cemetery and approached the swirling vortex now invisible to mortal eyes. He slid his angel blade from the sleeve of the trench coat that was pearlescent with rime frost.

Castiel tilted his chin left and right, his neck arching, as he explored the new powers that filled up the parts of him that used to be Jimmy. He took a slow breath, even though he didn’t need the oxygen. It was a residual human response that seemed to oddly calm his fears. 

Castiel thought briefly of the man despondently wending his way toward Lisa Braeden and her son. He stared down at the charred grass at his feet. He wasn’t the only one who sucked at goodbyes. 

And he jumped. 

 

His wings snapped and roared in deafening snarls, as he was buffeted by the maelstrom surrounding the Cage. The demons guarding the Cage fell back before the flare of his grace, and that surprised him. He had heard tell of the seraph and it intrigued him that he now wielded those very abilities with nothing more than a brief pause between the shocking, awful pain that was the Morningstar’s disintegration of his vessel, and the reawakening mere seconds later by his Father. 

The Cage swayed on the ends of great chains that anchored in the abyss. The cold pierced his skin. He remembered this. Oh yes. He had not come so deep before. But he remembered this cold. 

And now he was here for the brother. 

 

The rend in the Cage was small, but it was enough. Three souls burned brightly in the flaming depths. Lucifer. The Morningstar  - bright white and cold. The talons of his true form scratched and screamed over the gnarled walls. Michael, huddled, mourning for the war that was promised, his golden light only just visible through the flames. And Sam. That fading red light pinned against the wall of the cage by the white. His rangy, strong body was crumpled bonelessly within that shrinking aura of scarlet light. 

Castiel clambered over the Cage, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick, greasy surface. He grabbed for a chain and swung himself into place. He could see the smallest amount of red light shining out and winding his fingers into the warped metal, he gave it a testing pull. The cold of it sank into his palm and he snatched his hand back.

“Sam!” His voice was whipped away by the gathering winds. The forces of hell were gibbering in the distance, blown back by his grace, but gathering reinforcements. 

“Sam! I’m here!” He didn’t know if the younger Winchester could hear him.

Curving his palm over the metal, he focussed his grace, and the Cage melted. He could see Sam, still as death. Lucifer was turning toward him. Michael’s fists were clenched, his mouth open in an ‘oh’ of shock at the sight of Castiel. 

_ I’m not here for you, brother,  _ Castiel sent the words to the archangel. 

_ Get me out!  _ Michael howled.  _ Get me out now, Castiel. _

“I blew you to pieces…” The Morningstar raged. “You were muck at my feet.”

Castiel didn’t reply. His focus was Sam. Only Sam. He reached in. Michael howled another protest and threw himself across the Cage. He was grabbed by Lucifer and slammed against the wall. He blew Lucifer back with a shard of golden light that had Castiel closing his eyes. His fingers found and caught hold of Sam’s arm. He dragged him out of the hole he had made whilst his brothers fought.

Lucifer was hurled toward them by Michael. He reached out and grabbed Sam’s leg, but Castiel had the greater purchase and pulled harder, tugging Sam loose. Lucifer let go. Castiel’s grace flared out, and thought with sudden uneasiness that there had been a small smile of triumph on Lucifer’s face, as the Cage closed before him. But he didn’t have time to consider it, as the minions of hell seemed to realise what he had done and were flowing one past the other to reach him. 

Castiel’s wings shimmered in the distant fires in the level of Hell above that he knew he had to punch through. He gripped Sam close, and once more drew his angel blade. 

 

Castiel stumbled to his knees in the middle of Stull Cemetery. His hands shook as he carefully laid Sam down at his feet. Demon blood soaked his clothing and smeared across his dazed features. He tried to rise, and stood, hunched, breathing hard. Something in his vessel was broken, but his grace was battered, unable to heal just yet. 

He swayed in place as he stared down at the unconscious form of Sam Winchester, relief etched across his face. He had saved Sam. It would be alright now. It would be...alright. He collapsed, boneless, into the grass. 

 

Three angels blinked into existence, blades at the ready. One knelt over Sam, holding out their palm over his chest. Light flared. 

“No good. He’s empty.” 

Two other angels crouched beside Castiel. They hesitantly touched the charred, grubby coat. “Let’s get him back to Raphael.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Cas? Please turn your ears on.” Sam sat on the end of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clenched. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to talk. I have to talk. Please answer.” 

Sam opened his eyes, and stared around him hopefully. 

Nothing.

There never was. 

He’d been pulled out of Hell a month ago and nothing was the same. He didn’t feel the same. He didn’t...feel. He dropped his burning brow onto the cool of his palm. 

“Cas. I need help.” 

 

The hunt had gone wrong. 

Sam had considered calling Dean before he started, but he remembered that night long ago when he had stood outside, still weakened, and stared at his brother seated at the table in the warm suburban house, Lisa setting a home cooked meal in front of him while Ben chattered. 

He couldn’t change that. He wouldn’t. 

So he had gone on this hunt alone and he was going to pay for it with his life. He could feel his blood soaking the back of his shirt and seeping into the dirt. 

“Dean…” He rasped, wishing so hard for him. “Cas...help…” 

His vision was blurring, and his eyelids were heavy. The pain was a hammer against his spine, but growing more distant. He closed his eyes. 

The first shard of intense warmth curled through him like smoke, pushing back the agony. He let out a whimper as rent flesh knit back together. His back arched as his hands curled into fists at his side. 

“Sam.” The flat tones were familiar. 

Sam opened his eyes, blinking slowly. “Cas?” He elbowed himself upright, his hand over his belly. He stared up at the carefully blanked features. “I wasn’t even sure you were alive. You never replied. Did you even hear me?” 

“I heard you, Sam.” 

“Why didn’t you reply?” Sam’s tone was carefully measured. 

“I’m fighting a war.” 

“What?” 

“Raphael. He’s…” Castiel hesitated, scowling at his shoes. “He started a war.” 

Sam stood slowly, and approached Castiel. “Against who?” 

Castiel’s jaw clenched. 

“Cas?” Sam persisted. “Against who?” 

Castiel finally looked up, and up, and met Sam’s steady hazel eyes. “Me.” 

Sam blinked. “Why?” 

“He wants to break his brothers out of the cage.” Castiel ground the heel of his hand into his right eye, weariness slumping his shoulders. “Restart the apocalypse.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Cas.” He reached out and gripped Castiel’s right arm. “They can’t. You can’t let them.”

“I’m aware of that, Sam,” Castiel gritted out. “So I’m sure you understand why I couldn’t answer your prayers.” 

Sam nodded slowly, his expression bleak. “Sure. Yeah. I get it.” 

Castiel took a step away, then a second. “You should make a connection with other hunters, Sam. It’s too dangerous for you alone.” 

Sam laughed mirthlessly. “Other hunters? Not sure there is any left who don’t know the name Winchester and want to immediately shoot me in the chest.” 

“There is Bobby?” Castiel suggested, his eyes shifting warily. 

“No.” Sam was emphatic. “No. He’s not up for this life any more.” 

Castiel nodded slowly. “Well, I’m sure you will come up with something.” He squinted as though hearing something from afar. “I have to go.” 

Sam nodded, and reached out, wrapping Castiel into a hug. The smaller man held himself stiffly for a moment, before raising his hands and patting Sam on the back. “Be careful, okay?” Sam’s voice was a little muffled. “I don’t wanna have to tell Dean some day that we lost you.” 

Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped back. “That’s not really possible to be completely careful during a war, Sam.”

“Still.” Sam gave him a wobbly smile. “You ever need to talk…” And then he was speaking to empty air as Castiel disappeared. He shook his head. 

 

Two months later.

Sam lay back on the hotel bed, his feet hanging over the end, the crook of his elbow covering his eyes. He was hellishly tired. The hunt had been long, but with the Campbell clan at his back, it was the best he could hope for. His grandfather was blunt and exacting, ruthless. 

His stomach rumbled but he wasn’t really in the mood to get up and forage for food. 

He was dropping toward sleep, when the distinctive sound of wings, and a mumbled, “Sam…” had him jerking his arm away from his head and sitting up with a protest of aching muscles. 

“Cas?” He leapt up at the sight of the angel, battered and bleeding, swaying on his feet. “Hey, hey…” He barely caught Castiel as he collapsed. 

With a grunt, Sam swung him up into his arms, and trembling, dropped him onto the bed. Castiel’s head lolled to the side, the fragility of his eyelids pale over the bruised flesh above his cheek bones. The poor guy looked exhausted. 

“Hey, Cas? Wake up.” Sam sat beside Castiel on the bed, his fingers gripping the beard dusted chin. He patted his cheek gently, then none too gently. 

“Hrmmph?” Castiel’s eyes blinked open, and he unsteadily met Sam’s gaze. 

“What happened?” Sam asked urgently. 

“Battle. Too many...died. We were ambushed. Only just got out.” Castiel’s breath hitched, and his fingers plucked at the sticky red shirt over his belly. “Are you warded?” He reached out and clutched at Sam’s hand.

“Yeah. Yeah, we are.” Sam gripped Cas’ hand tightly. “You’re safe.” 

“I know.” Castiel mumured. “I ...know…” And he passed out. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Damn.” He stood, and laid Castiel’s hand across his chest and went to the bathroom. He grabbed the first aid kit and a couple towels. With deft movements, he stripped open Castiel’s shirt and studied the wounds. Cas had been hit by an angel blade at some point, there was the faintest glow from the wound on his belly that disconcerted Sam and he cleaned that up first. 

 

Sam was washing his hands when he heard Castiel murmuring. He headed back to the bed and saw that Castiel was still unconscious. He wiped his hands on a towel and sat down next to Castiel again. 

“Sam…” His name rasped from the angel’s lips. 

Sam leaned forward, and brushed his broad palm over Castiel’s forehead, wondering if angels could get sick enough for fever. But he seemed cool enough. His phone rang, and fumbling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the display. 

“Yeah, Christian? What’s up?” 

He listened, glancing at Castiel, studying the almost fragile, ethereal face on the pillow.

“Okay. I will be ready to go. Yep.” He hangs up. 

The angel wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. Sam lay back on his side of the bed, sliding under the covers. He stared at the ceiling, pressing his fingers into the hollow of his shadowed heart. 

 

Castiel opened his eyes with a start, his grace flaring through his vessel. He stared wildly at the ceiling, wondering how on earth he had slept. Angels didn’t ...sleep. He elbowed himself up and winced at the damage done to his belly. He hadn’t slept, he had passed out so his body could repair itself. 

A soft snore had him jerking his head to the side. 

Sam was sprawled on his front, his face smashed into the pillow, arms underneath, propping up the nearly flat cushion. He looked so young like this, without the weariness of the hunt weighing him down. 

Castiel reached out to touch the messy tangle of his hair. His fingertips just brushed the dark strands. 

 

Sam jerked awake, drool soaking the pillow under his cheek. Gross. He wiped the back of his hand over his chin. He stared at the empty bed beside him. He supposed that it was a good thing Cas had the strength to bamf back home. 

He supposed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well...uhhh... so this chapter is why there is the explicit rating. 
> 
> I don't think I have written anything quite like this before. 
> 
> I think I'm still blushing. 
> 
> Forgive me for I have sinned! I will never do it again!

_ “Cas? Are you there?” _

Castiel’s grace whipped out, driving back the angels intent on taking their position. Sam’s voice distracted him, and the angel beside him slammed back into a wall, her neck tilted at an awkward angle as she slumped, wide eyed, her vessel broken. 

Castiel snarled his frustration. 

_ “Cas, c’mon man. I need your help with something.”  _

Three of Raphael’s angels strode forward, angel blades poised to strike. Castiel slashed out at the first, kicked out the legs of a second. His grace flared, driving back the first another step. His angel blade spun in his palm and he slammed it into the back of the second angel. The third angel gave the briefest hesitation, giving Castiel the chance to grab him by the throat and tear through the vessel with his grace. The vessel slumped to the ground. 

He turned on the first angel, and with a powerful drive of his legs, slammed him into a wall, and drove the angel blade into his gut. 

Whirling, he stared out over the carnage. They were winning at great cost, but they were winning. 

And his heart was breaking. 

_ Cas? _

 

Castiel flew into Sam’s room and grabbing him, anger turning his blue eyes bright, he slammed him into the wall. 

Sam’s eyes went wide, then narrowed as he stared down at the intruder. “What the hell, Cas?” He tried to yank away Castiel’s hands but they were twisted in his jacket. 

“I told you I am fighting a damn war.” Castiel invaded his space, the smell of burning and ozone filling Sam’s senses. “I don’t have time to come and answer your every damned question. You have to finger it out…” He gritted his teeth. “..and solve it for yourselves. If I fail and Raphael wins; this, all of this, is done.” 

Sam’s gaze searched Castiel’s fierce expression and his breath deepened. 

Castiel frowned in some confusion when Sam didn’t reply. 

Sam’s hand came up to cup the back of Castiel’s head, his fingers sliding into the dark, messy strands and his mouth came down hard. Castiel made a sound of protest before his grip on Sam’s jacket changed, smoothed, and yanked Sam forward. 

Sam’s teeth bit into his lower lip, the scrape of them sending a shiver down Castiel’s spine. His fingernails dug into Sam’s ribs. Sam groaned and hauled Castiel closer, groin to groin, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s back. 

Castiel’s thigh pressed against Sam’s groin, a slow grinding slide that had Sam’s breath gasping against Castiel’s mouth. 

“Fuck, Cas…” Sam said hoarsely. 

“Why do you want this?” Cas gave another insistent press, leaving Sam no doubt as to what ‘this’ was.

“You make me...feel.” Sam’s eyes were slumberous, fixed on Castiel’s mouth. “I ...feel.” 

Castiel’s nostrils flared, his palm splayed on Sam’s chest, hesitating a brief moment. 

“Make me feel, Cas.” Sam pleaded as he covered Castiel’s hand and skimmed it down the hard ridges of his belly to curve over his cock. 

Castiel searched Sam’s face. There was frustration there, desperation, want. Need. And his grip on Sam’s cock tightened. Sam closed his eyes, dropped his chin and groaned. Castiel ran his fingertips up the heavy length, his fingernails catching on the well worn denim. 

“Open your eyes, Sam Winchester.” Castiel demanded. “You will open your eyes and be here, damn it.” 

Sam’s eyes snapped open and his chin tilted up. Castiel deftly yanked Sam’s belt from the loops of his jeans. He studied the texture of it, running his thumbs over the buttersoft leather. His lips curved in a faint smile and his eyes met Sam’s. He watched the pupils of those hazel eyes blow wide. He dropped the belt, the buckle clanking as it hit the floor. His fingers went back to the button on the waistband and thumbed it open. Sam’s breath gasped out as Cas dragged the backs of his fingernails across his abdomen. 

Sam chased Castiel’s lips, but Castiel leaned back, his hand coming up to curve over Sam’s throat, just a gentle, but inexorable, halting. Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel merely leaned in, brushing his lips over the arch of muscle in Sam’s neck, torturously licking up the salt slicked column, before he claimed the sensitive earlobe that Sam jerking in a shudder. Castiel’s right hand trailed up under Sam’s shirt and skimmed over Sam’s left nipple, at first gentle, teasing, then his thumb joined it and briefly pinched. Sam made a dirty sound low in his throat and reached out for Castiel’s hips. 

“I’m going to watch you come apart, Sam Winchester,” Castiel growled low in his throat, his lips close to Sam’s ear. “I’m going to make you feel, oh you can believe I’m going to make you feel.”  This was punctuated by another twist to Sam’s nipple, wrenching another groan from his lips. “You had better find something to hold on to, Sammy.” He used Dean’s nickname with a sardonic twist. 

The zip vibrated as he slid it down, revealing the hard length of Sam’s cock tenting his dark briefs. 

“Cas…” Sam whimpered. 

“Want me to take you in my mouth, Sammy?” Castiel nosed the base of Sam’s throat. “Use my tongue until your eyes roll back in your head?” 

Sam’s only response was to grip Castiel’s arm, leaning back against the wall as Castiel drove him to his toes by rubbing the heel of his palm up his rigid cock.

“I can’t hear you, Sam?” Castiel nipped Sam’s right nipple between his teeth and laved it with his tongue in a soothing gesture. 

“Yes. Yes, please,” Sam said hoarsely. 

Castiel went to his knees, and peeled Sam’s underwear down his thighs. He licked a stripe up the underside of the thick dick that pulsed at eye level, then ignored it to kiss the sharp jut of Sam’s hipbones. Sam rolled his hips impatiently, another whine falling from his lips. 

“What was that?” Castiel asked, his voice a rasp, he slid the backs of his fingers over Sam’s balls, with just enough pressure to have him squirming. Sam’s hand came to the back of his head, fingers driving into the dark spikes of hair. 

“Please, Cas….” 

Cas just gave a soft, dark laugh, and sucking lightly on the tip of Sam’s cock, he let it slide slowly in, arching toward his throat. He came up again, tonguing the vein below the head. Sam’s thighs trembled under his touch, steadying himself on their solidity, marvelling at the fragility and the strength within the body trembling at his merest touch. 

As Castiel began to firmly trace his tongue over the throbbing vein at the base of his dick, Sam fell apart. The whimpers falling from his mouth were unashamed and they fascinated Castiel. That he could draw such sounds from a Winchester, who always stood so resolute, so bullheaded, so tough. 

He drew Sam to the peak of frustration with just the steady suction of his mouth. The taste of his precum was odd, slightly bitter overlaying a faint sweetness. He slid off the tense solidity of that heavy cock and stood up, a faint smile on his lips at the groan of frustration from Sam. 

Cas leaned forward, bracketing Sam’s hunched shoulders with his hands, his groin once more leaning into a headspinning press. He stopped mere inches from Sam’s mouth. 

“I can finish you off here and now, Sam…on my knees, I will suck you dry.” His eyes flashed brightly for a moment. “Or you can see what it feels like when you cum on the end of a seraph’s cock.” 

Sam bit his lips, his breath hitching, skin flushed. 

“If it helps…” Castiel closed the last few millimetres between them and sucked Sam’s plump lower lip into his mouth. He nipped and let go, watching the soft flesh go rosy. “...Angel’s don’t need to breathe.”

Sam chased Castiel’s lips and this time he caught them for a deep kiss. 

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, just relinquishing control for a few seconds. It felt so good. But this wasn’t for him. He put a hand back up to Sam’s chest and slammed him back against the wall. Sam was wide eyed and startled. 

“Well, Sam?” Castiel tilted his head in that querying way he knew used to baffle the boys. “What’s it to be? Angel mouth or angel cock?” 

“Cock…” Sam rasped. “Please… your cock.” 

“Then strip…” 

 

Sam knelt on the hotel bed. The cheap sheets rasping his knees and bunched in his hands. His clothing was an erotic pathway to his current position, shaking arms clutching a nearly flat pillow, face pressed hard into it to muffle his cries, his knees spread wide, cock heavy  and wanting between his trembling thighs. 

The snap of the lubricant lid made his shoulders tense, before a slick finger traced around the rim of his hole. This wasn’t unfamiliar territory for him, but oh god, the person who just slid the merest fingertip into the furled entrance of his ass, was new and unexpected and wanted. 

The first breach was a whisper of a thing, barely even there. The long fingers skimmed short nails in an excruciating frisson up his spine, making his muscles tense and shudder. They scraped back down and he groaned into the pillow. 

Precum spurted onto the tangled sheets and his back arched. Castiel used the movement to slide his finger in. Sam made an animalistic sound and Castiel soothed his palm over Sam’s back. 

“Come on, Winchester... “ his voice was darkly amused. “You can take it.” 

Castiel, still in white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his blue tie tugged a little loose, top button undone, and his pants still on, opened Sam up with slow, intense movements the one finger joined by two, then three. 

“Ready, Sam?” Castiel reached between Sam’s legs and gave his cock a few long, slow tugs, his thumb whorling over the top. “Because I really want to slam my cock into that pretty ass of yours.” 

“Yes…” Came the muffled reply, and a pair of hazel eyes stared at him pleadingly. 

However, Cas wasn’t a complete asshole. He unzipped, and pulled out his very hard, very hot, cock, erect these many long minutes but ignored by the resolute angel. He rolled the waiting condom over his dick and slicked it with the lubricant, tossing the bottle on the bed. Taking it in hand, he stood, balanced carefully on the bed, steadying himself with one hand on the gorgeous ass cheek in front of him, and pressing the flushed, dark red head of his dick against Sam’s hole, he pressed forward slowly, agonisingly slow, but inexorably. 

The low moan from Sam had Castiel drawing a shaking breath into his lungs and he closed his eyes. The sensation was wringing every good thought out of his head and leaving him with dark, dirty whispers. 

He didn’t stop sliding in until the flies of his pants were pressed against Sam’s naked ass. 

He muttered a prayer for control in strangled enochian. 

The small pool of precum on the bed was joined by another spurt as Sam widened his knees for the assault, bracing his shoulders for the thrusts. Castiel drew back slowly, his pupils blown wide at the erotic sight, and his mind, with all its distractions of war, the loss of friends, of family, it was all buried in sensation as he fucked steadily into the body of Sam Winchester. 

The bed creaked and squealed its protest, but that was nothing to the sounds being wrenched from Sam, and after a handful of thrusts, from Castiel as well. 

“Unnfff...ahh...Cas...ahh...ungg...uff..unfff…Yes. Fuck. Yes… Harder. Fuck ...me...harder…” Sam begged, his mouth open, his hands twisted and tearing at the sheets to stop him gripping his cock and thrusting desperately into his hand. 

“As you wish…” Castiel withdrew his cock to a muttered protest, and pushed Sam in between the shoulder blades, and he splayed across the bed. Castiel sat on the curve of those strong legs and leaned forward, his hands pressing up the tense muscles of Sam’s back, out along his arms, and to his hands. He interlinked his fingers with Sam’s huge paw, and with a rolling thrust of his hips, seated himself inside Sam once again. 

He put a little more angelic strength into it, and Sam was soon grunting with the pressure, clutching Castiel’s hand, rolling his hips beneath Castiel to get him deeper, more, harder. Rubbing his cock against the rough bedsheets, needing the friction. 

When Sam came it was with an explosion throughout his body, felt to his fingertips, his breath coughing out and many long moments before he could draw another as his lungs refused to function. 

Castiel tumbled over the precipice into nothingness a few moments later. His lips found and chased the sweat over Sam’s back, and he rested his forehead against the furnace of his skin. 

He felt Sam carefully shift so he slipped out and he groaned, closing his eyes. 

“Holy shit, Cas.” 

He felt Sam shift on the bed and opened his eyes to watch him wriggle around stare down at his smeared abdomen. Sam drew his finger through the sticky mess and wrinkle his nose. 

Castiel studied the scene silently, before he clambered off the bed. 

Sam glanced up in surprise. “You’re going?” 

Castiel was confounded by the expression on Sam’s face. Disappointment? “Yes. I have to. I have been gone too long as it is.” He rezipped his pants and straightened his tie. He paused. “Are you alright, Sam?” 

“Yeah.” Sam gave that little frown and shake of his head. “Yeah, of course. Thanks.” 

Castiel slid his arms into his jacket, settling it on his shoulders. He wouldn’t admit how shaky he was. Not to Sam. “You are very welcome.” 

Sam blinked as one moment the angel was there, and the next he was gone. He reached up, pressed his fingers to his heart and rubbed there. It was gone already. Whatever he thought he might have … but it was gone. 

He dropped his elbow over his stinging eyes. 

 

The bitterness burned in Castiel’s chest as he fought his war against Raphael. New wounds overlaid old, and still they were losing. He had made some choices, alliances that would have him thrown out of heaven but he saw no other way. 

But sometimes in the long nights, he could hear the one thing that would call him home. 

_ Cas? You there? _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on @silencedaodhan on tumblr!


End file.
